


30 Minutes To Midnight

by FullElven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2798969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullElven/pseuds/FullElven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean just /really/ wants to give Castiel a proper Christmas</p>
            </blockquote>





	30 Minutes To Midnight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thekingslover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekingslover/gifts).



“Damn it!” Dean said, smacking the steering wheel of Baby before apologizing softly to the 67 Impala. Rear-wheel drive was not a preferable thing for winter conditions, let alone winter conditions in the Midwest, and a good slick of black ice had left the elder Winchester good and stuck. 

Sure, the car was legally his, but there was no legal insurance. Who needed insurance? He didn’t technically exist. Fake ids, fake credit cards, who needed real insurance when he did every inch of the body work himself? As if he would ever trust another man to know her as intimately as he did. 

However, on tonight of all nights, Dean Winchester wished that maybe things were different. He’d phone some overly cheery agent, they’d exchange pleasantries, and she’d send a tow truck out immediately. He’d get some hot chocolate, warm up, and drive a rental car to keep a promise that he’d now had to reschedule four times.

“Five now. Damn it.” He cursed again, and swinging the driver’s side door open, pulled himself out and slammed it to go see what the damage was. He circled the car once, twice…three times. “All to my pride, none to Her.” A heavy sigh released, he slipped his hand into the pocket of his brown leather jacket, pulling out his personal cell, and flipping it open. “Oh come on! No bars?” He turned and kicked a pile of stone, only to find a guardrail Baby had only narrowly missed. 

There, on the side of the Interstate, a righteous man fell to his knees and howled every obscenity he knew and cursed God for shitting on him yet again.

A flutter of wings, a gust of wind. Without even turning, he knew just what had happened, who had come to him, and he wasn’t quite sure whether that was going to be a blessing or just another bad thing on a list of bad things that had happened. “Dean, I’ve asked you not to take my Father’s name in vain like that.”

/Not like he’s listening, Cas./ Dean thought to himself, pulling himself uncharitably off the ground, his jeans soaked through to the skin from the snow. “I know, I’m late, again. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to let you down again—“

“Dean.”

His name was spoken so simply, and yet it brought those candy-apple green eyes straight up to gaze at the intense crystalline blues of Castiel staring back at him. He just stared at him, saying nothing, or….trying to think of something to say. It was hard saying with the angel. “What?”

“You are injured.” 

Huh? Dean looked down, expecting to see blood, but there was none. But then how…the splitting ache in his foot? That had been nothing, but—“It’s nothing, Cas. I just…”

“You’re in pain.” He stated, and crossed to him, laying his hand on his shoulder in a way that always seemed to comfort Dean, to elicit a sort of calm rapture in him that he didn’t say another word when the golden warmth flooded him and healed the likely minor wound. “Better?”

“Uh…yeah,” he answered after a moment, his brain finally catching up to the speed of the moment. 

“Why is the Impala in the ditch?” He asked, canting his head curiously to the side like a bird, his brows pursed together in confusion as he moved past Dean to finally take in the situation as a whole.

The elder Winchester sighed. “I thought it’d be a nice place to pull over and take a nap.”

“But then why—“

“Damn it, Cas, I hit some ice, slid into the damned thing. Tow shops are closed. No way I’m leaving Baby out here all night. No way, no how.” Dean said vehemently, shaking his head and gesturing with his hands. Cas never really got his hand gestures, but he noticed Dean did it when he really meant things. 

“Get in.” He said simply, pointing to the car. Dean looked like he was going to argue, and instead Cas opted for the face he knew tended to make turn a little red and look away, and then do exactly as he had suggested. As he guessed, it worked how he wanted, and Dean got back into the driver’s side, rolling the window down. “Start it.” He instructed. Dean didn’t know what he was playing at, the angel knew less than nothing about automobiles, but he obliged anyway.  
He expected to see Castiel climb in the passenger side, but instead he heard the groan of steel, and felt the car lurch forward. “Go.” Was all Castiel said.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Dean murmured, but he pressed the gas, and Castiel pushed the back end in a way that there was enough weight for it to catch traction, and before Dean knew it, the Impala was out of the ditch and back onto the road. The elder Winchester gave a celebratory whoop and cheered. “That’s right! No body puts Baby in a corner!” 

Castiel looked at him confused as he got in and closed the door behind him. “Dean, I’m not quite sure that reference applies here.”

“What?” He looked at him incredulously. “Of course it does! You know, because this is baby, and the ditch was like—You know what? It fits. Nobody asked you.”

He shifted the car into gear and got them moving again, rolling up his window as he went. Castiel just beamed at him, such an annoyingly happy expression on his face in comparison to the pursed lips Dean wore when he was annoyed. A mile went by of Castiel smiling at him like that in his peripheral before he sighed again. “Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“What is that? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s 12:01.” He said as if that were the most obvious answer in the world. Dean blinked, and looked at him a moment, pondering what he actually expected to come of that. 

“Yeah, so? 12:01?”

“You kept your promise. We spent Christmas together.” He said, entirely pleased with the whole thing.

“Cas, you helped me get the car a ditch. I hardly call that keeping my word,” he said with a sigh, irritated at himself for letting him down again.

“We were together, Dean. Is that not what matters?” 

Dean didn’t say anything for a long moment. Just milling it around, because as usual, Castiel was right. Still, however, something bothered him. “It’s not good enough, though. Not for you. You deserved some…carols or something. Hot chocolate by the fire and presents that I didn’t buy with a stolen credit card or cash I won in the last roadhouse.” 

“If it were any other way, Dean. It wouldn’t have been you.” 

The elder Winchester simply sighed, looking at him a moment before turning the radio on, letting whatever cassette he’d left in there just blend into background noise as he felt Castiel’s warm hand on his knee. Leaning back against the seat, he dropped his hand to join his and let himself smile. Maybe Christmas hadn’t been perfect, but it was as perfect as any Winchester Christmas had ever been.

Fin.


End file.
